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-POEMS 



JACOB G, GROSSBERG, 



Stude;it-at-Lia\v. 



CHICAGO: 

THE OCCIDENT PUBLISHING CO , 156 Lake Street, 

18 8 9. 



All Rights Reserved.. 



Entered according to Act of Congre&s, in the year 1889, 

BY 

JACOB G. GROSSBERG, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 



■POEMS 



BY 



JACOB G, GROSSBERG, 



Student-at-Law. 



CHICAGO: 

THE OCCIDENT PUBLISHING CO., 156 Lake Stkebt, 

18 8 9. 



All Righits Reserved. 



\::> 




THE EDITOR'S PUEFACE. 



lu presenting the poems contained in tlic annexed pages we do so, con- 
vinced that the poetic genius of Jacob G. Grossbkrg will find ready readers 
among those who will appreciate classical conceptions, The Composer of 
these lines, although a law student and not in communion with the spirits 
for studying the muses, yet possesses marked ability for versification and a 
high and lofty grade of poesie v-'bich will prove patent to tlie reader. His 
father, Nathan B, Grossber^, was a resident of Kovno, Russia, who emi- 
grated from that country seven 3'ears ago, and came to the United States 
with his family, consisting of wife and nine children. The author of these 
lines is the third son. At an early age he evinced great literary taste and 
was a hard student. He graduated from the South Division High School of 
Chicago, and is now in his 20th year, a law student at the Chicago Union 
College of Law and will in a year hence pass his final examination for his 
degree. We have had much pleasure in perusing this young poet's stanzas 
and take this method of presenting them to a discriminating public. 

JULIUS SILVERSMITH, 

Editor: The Occident. 
Chicago, June, 1889 



CONTENTS. 



1 Lovp and the Muse. 

2 Beauty 

'S Ode to Spring. 

4 The Shepl.erd's Sons. 

5 The Patriot's Watchword: A Song of the Revolution, 
ft Fatima'a Song. 

7 A Friend Beyond tl:e Wave 

8 On Si.<»tei's Wedding. 

9 Zion. 

10 Acrostic (Annie Grossberg). 

11 Acrostic (Jacob Elknn) 

12 Judah Ben Halevv (hIso Judah Levita). 
14 A Dream of Death. 



TO MAY C. DUFFIN, 

My former instructor, and ever my most constant friend and adviser, 
whose words have at all times kept alive my hopes and encouraged my 
labors, I 

DEDICATE 

This little volume with deepest regards. 

THE AUTHOR. 



LOVE AND THE MUSE. 

Now my pillow, tear-drenched nightly. 

Is my throbbing temples' bath ; 
When a zephyr c^mes, that sprightly 

Bears me off ou scented breath .... 
Green and fragrance balsam kindly 

My heart's deep sore;^ — 
Ne'er has mortal wandered blindly 

In an Eden such before: 

To the right each crystal glittered — 

Every droplet, of the late; 
To the left the chorus twittered, 

Followed chanting in my wake; 
Rainbow hues, moie lovely tinted, 

Of each flower-bed, 
In best beauty vying, hinted 

To my ease a couch soft-spread. 

And a Nymph came to me smiling. 

In all grace and beauty robed; 
With me soft the hours beguiling, 

My most tender pnssions probed. 
Leading me through lawns sweet-scented 

To her proud throne. 
To me her domains presented— 

Grandeurs, wonders, all her own! 

At her bid spright fairies folded 

Softest music on n y soul, 
'Fore my eyes mailed heroes molded. 

Whose mien Virtue's graces stole. 
Then smiled on me, sweet, benignly. 

Of these the queen: 
"All here lovely, all divinely, 

Mayst thou share, if so I mean," 

Then did seize me one desire: 

This, to woo the royal maid; 
And when rose my scorned fire, 

I with tresses golden played. 
And to eyes the stars out-beaming, 

My heart laid bare ; 
That my hours with dreams set teeming;. 

For bright visions changed despair! 



11. 

BEAUTY. 

Earth's rarest gifts, thou daughter of chaste Heaven, 
Idea sublime of all that's nobly pure, 
Mixture divine of elements serene, 
Thou stamp of virtue blest and holy truth, 
Thou geutle charmer of the ardent soul — 
In Eden first by earthly eyes admired— 
Whether thou beamst from Nature's grandness proud 
(The Art of the Omnipotent Himself), 
Or gently smil'st from sweet serenity— 
Whether thou'rt reached but by most lofty flights, 
Or found in meekly cha^^fi". occult: — 
Tbou touchest e'er by gentle strings the heart, 
That leaps and longs, and melts in feelings vague! 

I gaze upon the mountain's heaving breast, 
Upon its lowered lap. where roam the flocks, 
And graze in peace and calm from morn till eve: 
I slowly sweep my gaze up to its crest, 
I s'.owly lose the green for paler hue, 
Until I reach the diarant glitfnring snow, 
Where bask the mirror-blazing sunbeams high, 
And, save where float the vapors, soars the blue 
Beyond that gleaming height, and on't defined :— 
O, can I tell what glowing aspivations 
Throng on my breast while thus I gaze, and gaze! 

As I lie musing on my midnight couch, 
The welkin-wand'ring guardian of the night 
Steals through my window, till our glances meet: 
The pale-hued moou slieds 'round a doubtful light, 
And like a lovely face that sleeps beneath 
A ragged quilt f 'om which the cotton's out 
Along its edges and tie surface torn,— 
Her beauty's covered and half-hid 'oy clouds. 
Yet glories through them with her heav'uly power, 
And smiling eadly, draws my heart from me. 
And, ah! such real vision is much sweeter 
Than fairest fabric of a fairy dream! 
And long I lie and look, till Nature sees. 
And soft asserting her mild reign to me, 
She draws the curtain o'er my drunken sight. 



-At lucubratlou-hour I draw deep draughts 
Of boundless, beauteous Science, till my mind 
Doth wander off in mazes of delight: 
I gasp, and grasp tne marvellous divine: 
The endless, all-pervading, intricate, 
Yet perfect-jointed heaven's machinery, 
By which this universe is ruled and moved -. 
How raging elements that one way sweep, 
The million wheels of motion and of life. 
With pow'r supply; and millions other such 
The counter current runs; and every change. 
And each relief, and every constant law 
Of force, of inatter, etiert-y, and life. 
In harmony together link tlie cliaio 
Of Nature, trackless, subtly interwoven. 
And long I soar with lofty, eager flight, 
And countless voices whisper in my ears: 
"Give thanks to Him who winds the key of all 
These beauteous pow'rs, and bids you all enjoy." 

My eoul Is wrapped in dreamful solitude, 
And roams in Fancy's fairy-framed abodes, 
As dormant twilight soothes the mind to dreams. 
And to forget the day's vexations, toils: 
Low strains of music, growing sweeter, fuller, 
Steal on my heart with strange, bewitching power- 
As sweet they seem as Sirens' deadly notes. 
But them unlike, they sing of life and beauty : 

"Turn, weary man, your mind from toil and care, 
And bathe your soul awhile in soothing song, 

That flows from all Creation's beauties rare. 
And rings the stars among! 

"Sweet music's round you, if you would but hear; 

Sweet music you mav have instead of sighs; 
For trusic floats 'round all things on this sphere, 

If you but ope your eyes. 

"The poet's eye reads music as his ear; 

He notes the song of bird, and bush, and flower; 
He singe it o'er, that every one may hear. 

And breithe from bliss ao hour. 

"The brook runs by you, warbling merrily 
Of his proud mis^sion in the plain and wood: 

How he brings freshness to the grass and tree, 
And cools the thirsty blood. 



■'The bee bums of its busy, happy days; 

The sky-bird carols of the glorious heights, 
The rose, the blossom, join their fragrant lays; 

Winds tune their wondrous flights. 

■"Then, toiler, turn your mind from toil and care! 

Give heed awbile to my free-given song; 
My name is Nature, and I'm every vphere, 

My song, all things among '' 

III. 
ODE TO SPRING. 

O cheerily, cheerily, hail we the Spring, 

By its light through the snow- woven curtain! 

O cheerily, cheerily, hail we the Spring, 
For bleak Winter's retreating for certain! 

O hail we, O hail we, the brightening Spring! 

For the ice and the snow now are thawing; 
The warblers returning north sing on their wing 

To the Spring that the Winter is gnawing! 

Then sing we, then sing we, to joy-bringing Spring! 

Bid adieu to the frost and the shiver! 
With shouting and laughter our voices shall ring 

In parks and in boats on the river! 

IV. 
THE SHEPHERD'S SONG. 

i First five stanzas fiom Hebrew— in "Romam-e of 
ZioD," by Mapou,— now iu process of traaslai ion by 
the AiUbrr ] 

Thy gifts O God, all men enjoy; 

Not so the pleasures of mankind: 
From these the rich alon« have joy, 

The poor, howe'er, are left behind. 

These pleasures, though, are nothing worth; 

And whenth' impartial sun shines bright, 
(This when the Spring its joys brings forth), 

All men alike enjoy its light. 

Over the fields, with plenty blessed. 

Prevail, with dance, sweet hopeful songs; 

Here, io the Spring, awhile to rest. 
Come from the city weary throngs. 



Our pastures free they love to roam, 
Our shepherd -songs they love to hear:: 

The pleasures that they miss at home. 
Of us they borrow, shepherds, here. 

In place of costly diadems, 

For which a fortune oft is paid, 
The shepherd's chaplet's fiow'ry gems 

Adorn with f^race bis chosen maid. 

There grows a lilly, there a rose; 

There tow'rs a palm majestic high ; 
There rests a lamb in sweet repose, 

Lulled by the brook that murmurs nigh.. 

What happy thoughts the mind inspire 

That sees felicity all 'round! 
That Nature's views sublime attire. 

And listens to its gentle sound! 

The shepherd, nursed 'mid scenes of calm. 
With nature undisguised e'er lives; 

Is glowed by listening to some psalm, 
Made happy with whate'er God gives. 

No art he seeks his speech to grace. 
His manner's ever gay and free, 

He never wears 3 smiling face. 
But when his heart is in a glee. 

How different he from city's sons. 
Who look well pleased bat thus to please: 

Who force their laugh to witless puns. 
Whose pleasures only tend to tease! 

Nocturnal gaiety, forced, assumed, 
They purchase at expense of health; 

By riches they are only doomed 
To traverse Envy's path of stealth. 

From wealth and its temptations far. 
The shepherd shuns vile Envy's bite; 

Content through life his guidmg star, 
He 'ludes the venomed suakes of night. 

May God that reids my inner heart 
From these temptations keep me e'er! 

May He that guided my life's start, 
Till life has fled forsake me ne'er! 



Y. 
THE PATRIOT'S WATCHWORD. 

A SOXG OF THE REVOLUTION. 

By her parent neglected, Columbia grew up 

In the bosom of J/iberty, Nature, and wild Wood; 

Yet when proud in her bloom, Biitain bade her yield up 
The freedom and rights she had loved from her childhood. 

"Ho! Columbia's oppressed!" burst from every free breast; 

"By our land's loved goddess, she will be redressed]" 

And in vale, and on mountain resounded the cry. 

The patriot's watchword— to conquer or die! 

In the Briton's fell eye sat the tyrant's cold pride, 

As the slangor of chains to our land he came bringing; 

But he quaked and he blanched, when in wrath, far and wide, 
At the touch of the fetter the freeman up-springing, 

To his sword and his steed swore for freedom to bleed, 

And ne'er to taste peace till Columbia be freed; 

And from vale and from mountain was echoed the cry, 

And the patriot's word was to conquer or die! 

"What! will the poor rebels, In bareness arrayed, 

Like madmen rush on to the cannon's quick slaughter?" 
'Nay, nay, haughty Briton! best see to thy blade. 

For death's in each arm now upraised for thy daughter! 

To the swain of the field thy battalions shall yield. 

For Freedom's loved cause is their armor and shield! 

Ah! hear'st the glad mountain reecho the cry. 

The patriot's watchword— to conquer or die? 

■'Ha! what is that sight that upheaved had the night? 

Grim ramparts— dim spectres -and muskets, ay, gleaming! 
Charge! charge! 'tis the rebel entrenched on yon height! 

Charge! his insolence drown in his life-blood deep-streaming!" 
At the word, dread and dire, flashes forth the rea fire,— 
'Tis the Briton, the Briton rolls down in the mire! 
Hurrah! how the welkin exults in the cry, 
The patriot's watchword— to conquer or die! 
Long rages the tempest on liighland and lea, 

On the freeman the brunt of fierce conflict still breaking; 
At Brandywine. Trenton, on waves of the sea, 

Still valor the fires of sweet Liberty's waking; 
Still flame in accord the free heart and true sword, 
Till shattered and smitten 's the pludering horde! 
And from vale and from mountain still echoes the cry, 
The patriot's watchword— to conquer or die! 



Then joyed in the land every heart that was true, 
And joy did the chieftain go upright, undaunted — 

When had broken Columbia's loathed chains the brave few — 
By famine, by treason, by gibbet, though haunted:— 

As in Yurl-jiown's proud hour low lay Albion's wrecked power^ 

And Columbia's own home became Liberty's bower! 

And ihe fieemim, fore'er he'H re'neinber thai cry, 

The patriot's watchword— to conquer or die! 

VL 
FATIMA'S SONG. 

I From an nnflnishecl Poem ] 

Come hither to me, !»iy horo, my idol! 

Lay ynur head on my welcoming lap; 
The battle forget, and the steed, and the hrirlie, 

And the thundering cannon's loud clap! 

Thou savest thou lov'st me — I love thee, «iy, trulv — 
And 8weet is the thought in my breast, , 

Betrothed I am, and wife shall he duly, 
To Osman— how more am I bkst? 

Yet tell me, my lover, tell me, dearest! 

(Re not angry fo»' what I shall ask!) 
Beside thee I only — shall I remain nearest? 

To soothe thee forever my task? 

Thou speak'st not— art silent— ah, cruel one, answer! 

With a kiss I will draw forth thy speech: 
Ay, sayest thou? then ne'er love was intenser 

Than that which to me thou'lt so teach! 

VII. 
A FRIEND BEYOND THE WAVE,. 

I sit in the starlight quiet. 

Where the billows meet the shore : 
But the distant breakers riot. 

Muttering low their angry roar. 

O'er the sea the spray is dancing, 

Ti'lit heaven's dark blue doth meet. 
As, retreating and advancing, 

Waves come sighing al my feet. 



Their chill tone an echo findeth 

In my memorj' — past joys' grave, — 
And their voice my heart remindeth 

Of a friend beyond the wave. 
Slow the breeze my eyes doth water, 

Slow it bathes my longing heart; 
Bears my soul, the wave that brought her, 

Back some thousand miles apart. 
Fleeting time and sea's expansion 

Clears my soul with memory's wings, 
To that old forsaken mansion— 

To my home, where fond it clings: 
'Fore my eyes is that dear dwelling, 

Outlined in the leafy bliss; 
Happiness, the smile is telling 

Of the boughs that breezes kiss; 
In its rear, on that mound yonder, 

'Neath the cherry, by the walk- 
There we used to stretch and ponder. 

Think and wonder, roll and talk: 
Zachary and I, though young we. 

Were the truest friends on earth ; 
All the evening spent in song we, 

Twilight, musing, morn in mirth. 
But a time there came with sorrow. 

Which from that place took me off. 
And when rose another morrow 

I was flying bridge and bluflf. 
Leaps my heart, my soul is soaring. 

Sleep my nerves as in a spell, 
And my ears lose breakers' roaring: 

In them echoes that "farewell!" 
yad and still that word was uttered, 

As we on the greensward stood; 
Stormed my heart, though iips but muttered, 

And the eyes outpoured their flood. 
Then we turned away forever : 

One to leave for western strand, 
(Though DO ties with home to sever 

But with t J rants of the land). 
And the one to stay and bury 

All that nature bade soar high; 
And the bud that blooms for Glory, 

Render dust for tyranny. 



Then, as slowly I departed ' 
From that cherished spot and face. 

Hours of joy together, darted 
Through my brain with pictured trace- 

E"er since theo it seemed such sweetness 
To dwell o'er those joys they gave! — 

Seemed my absent gaze to witness 
Scenes ia youth, beyond the wave. 

Thinking of his hopeless striving. 

Of his spirted young heart — 
If but free, his mind how thriving. 

Widening Science, gracing Arti — 

Wistfully I pray his coming 
To this free land and the brave ; — 

Both we'd then be free from roaming 
In the dark beyond the wave! 

By the sea-shore I do wander, 

As if on a loved one's grave; 
Waves come on and break asunder,— 

Comes no Friend Beyond the Wave. 

VIII. 

OiSr THK Wedding of the Author's 

Eldest Sister. 

My sister! this thy wedding-day 

To me is such sweet sorrow ; 
Though joyous, still my tieart doth say, 

I part with thee to-morrow. 

Of faces first remembered dear 
Thine 'tis I'm first to part with; 

Of separations with those dear, 
'Tie thee Tm doomed to start with! 

(Ye players! pour some pensive strain. — 

To me it is the sweetest; 
For soothing my heart's passing pain, 

Tour sadder note 's the meetest) 

O, why must happiness be bought 

With years of separation! 
Is there not joy without the thought. 

It has a termination ? 



But since such must be human joy 

Let not my gloom restrain it ; 
Rejoice, my soul! do not destroy 

Such gladness, when I gain it. 

Forgive me, sister, pardon all, 

This sadness of a moment! 
Henceforth my spirits shall not fall 

To gloom; — I have not so meant. 

And though we part with aching heart, 

'Tis for a happy future; — 
Henceforward, though we're rent apart. 

Still joined we're by love's suture. 

IX. 
ZION IN THE TIME OF HEZEKIaH. 

{From the Hebrew— in Mapou's "Rjmance in Zion,"— 
now in pi-oeess of traaslation by the Author.] 

Jerusalem, our hope and pridel 

Fair Zion, our beloved townl 
To thee's our fond affections tide. 

In thee dwells Israel's head and crown. 

Defended by the King of kings, 
All earthly hosts thou dost defy; 

As long to him thy people clings, 
To conquer thee foes vain shall try. 

Grand kingly pomp, tumultuous roar. 
And beauteous art reside in thee: 

O, rest in peace forevermore, 

From care, from fear, from anguish free! 

Mount Olive tow'rs in beauteous pride, 
Eniiched with Nature's fragrant green; 

Fruit-laden trees enchant its side. 
From it fair Zion'p sights are seen. 

On Hamorio— holy mount — 
Resides a fire of power divine. 

That Zion lights— of light a fount— 
But doth her foes with flames entwine. 

Ye nations, know our men are brave, 
Our forts too strong for foe to take. 

The faith that God through Moses gave, 
Too firm for time or ills to break! 



X. 

AN ACROSTIC. 

J ostling and busy the world through may be, 

A view ot past joys the mind ever seeks: 

C onstantly roaring though Life's immense sea — 

pposing the tides, its fury love breaks. 
B e life ever so gloomy, ever unkind. 

E v'ry time you're despairing, one you will find, 
L ab'ring to soothe thee, thy griefs to disperse. 
K now, Jacob, that Jacob never will shrink 
A ny dread danger with you to traverse, 
N or, happy or sad, cease of thee to think! 

XI. 

AN ACROSTIC— (To Author's Sister.) 

A h! can I recount now the hours 
N e'er shadowed by sorrow or care, 
N or marred by dissention that sours 

1 n many the joys young years bear! 

E 'er shall the bright pictures of childhood— 

G o we e'er from each other so far — 

R emain dearest in Memory's wild-wood 

f all Life's endearments there are. 

S et in the panorama beiore me, 

S urrounded by Infancy's joys — 

B eside those who have nureed and who bore me 

E re knew I my earliest toys— 

R emain shall thy image forever 

G raven fondly, till life's strings shall sever! 

XII. 

PROLOGUE! 

[Delivered on a Public Entertainment given by the 
Barnard Literary and Social Circle, Feb. 25, 1887.] 

You wonder much why we to-night 
Have thrust us on the public sight; 
Why time-short learning thus disturbed, 
And restless gaiety dully curbed. 
This to the learned then we aay: 
Full worth their time be not our play, 
An idle hour were still the best 
For those whose minds forget to rest. 
And pleasure's lovers shall find here — 



If in our farce no fun appear - 
Full theme for mirth in our distress, 
When shaken down by awkardness. 
Whatever better else shall come- 
Though no surprise to strike mirth dumb, 
Or Ciceronian eloquence— 
Keep !;ot your favor in suspense. 
Now, hoping censure none to win, 
Our entertainment we'll begin. 

XIII. 

JUDAH BEN HALEVY, (ALSO JIJDAH 
LEVITA.) 

LIVED JN SPAIN ABOUT THE YEA 1100. 

The following is based upon a legend 
touching the cirnamstances of the death 
of this remarkable Hebrew poet and phi- 
losopher. It runs briefly as follows: 
When entering upon his old age, he was 
seized with an unconquerable desire to 
visit the land where were laid the scenes 
of those most heart rending lamentations 
in all poetry, equalled only by the plaints 
of Jeremiah, which bad formed so great 
a portion of his life-work. After wander- 
ing about the various historic places that 
bore to him so sacred an interest, he was 
completely overcome among the ruins 
of the holy temple. An Arab riding past 
and seeing a man frantically kissing the 
stones on the ground, halted to address 
him. Exasperated at the failure of a re- 
ply from the pilgrim, who was totally un- 
conscious of his presence, the heartless 
barbarian wantonly speared him to the 
earth . 

Heine's humorous versification on the 
same subject was unknown to the writer 
at the time of composing the following, 
which will undoubtedly suffer from the 
contrast of veins. 

The notion of Halevy being, like Sam- 
uel, called three times to God, for which 



the author is originally responsible, has- 
been drawn into the plot for a possible 
romantic effect, and au apology is perhaps 
due for that liberty. 

The night hastened west 'fore the morn- 
ing. 

And pale was already the east: 
When a ship cleft slowly her pathway, 

Her souls in slumber appeased. 

Alone, the steersman hung drowsy 
His head with weariness worn. 

And the man at the watch measured 
slowly 
The dull approach of the morn 

Yet another there was watching. 

Awake at that silent hour; 
At the prow he sat unheeded, 

There bound by a sleepless power. 

Cold was the raw breeze blowing, 
And wet with the billow's bound, 

But the fire that raged within him 
Made arid the air around. 

For his heart was aflame in his bosom. 
From his eyes shown wildly its heat; 

And his passion was spurring madly 
The vessel beneath his feet. 

And his thoughts were flying onward, 
On the nearing shore was his soul, 

And his mortal mould was burning 
To touch that sacred goal. 

His arras folded o'er 'neath his mantle. 
His beard sweeping down on his breast. 

He sat leaning forward his stature, 
His frame, not his spirit, at rest. 

The light mounted higher in heaven, 
Till east and west were overspread; 

Then the sun, too, rose all glorious 
In a sky all fiery and red. 

And, lo! as the early risers 

Beheld her first golden rays. 
They a shout of joy sent upward, 

For with them, land met their gaze. 



Then he at the prow sprang delirious, 
And prostrate reeled on the deck, 

Then exclaimed, his hands raised to 
heaven, 
Nor gave to his voice any check: 

" O Lord, the God of my fathers! 

Receive the thanks of thy son, 
Who now by thy mercy gazeth 

The holy land upon." 

"And, oh! If I deserve further— 
I lowly -thy grace, Most High! 

Permit me, its bosom pressing, 
On the dust of my farefathers die! 

And then he arose in calmness — 
A baliia had flowed o'er his soul: — 

While on him were looks of wonder,— 
As shoreward the vessel did roll. 

As the gorgeous morn is advancing, 
Resplendent with radiant skies, — 

By eagerness carried — a being 
Toward sacred Jerusalem hies. 

And, Oh! how he thrills with emotion, 
As he treads on those glorious sands. 

Where conquering battled his sires — 
Where perished their patiiot bands. 

Here Joshua in terror advancing 
Had cleared for his people a land — 

When the midnight field, fought so 
fiercely. 
Was lighted by God's own nand. 

And Gideon proudly here shivered 
The strength of swarming foes. 

And succumbed had the haughty S'srah 
'Neath a woman's devoted blows. 

And, lo! the rocks of yon mountain 
Sighed to him the last mourning chant, 

That sweet maiden poured in her sadness, 
Ere cut was the blooming plant 

By her own loving father the hero, 
In the awful guilt of his vow:— 

A sigh, the pilgrim's tribute, 
And he eyes the mount from its brow. 



Here drinking the scene beneath him. 
The past mounts alive in his eye, 

And he sees it — as saw it when futuro 
Amram's son flit by. 

Comes figure after figure, 
And hero and Judge in the train; 

And king and prophet are statued, 
And quickly fade again. 

And fields of glory are lighted 
And camps of prostrate foes, 

And justice sitting in temples, 
Whence truth and wisdom flows. 

And woe and lament come likewise — 
The hand of an outraged God: 

Then happiness won by repentance, 
And paths of righteousness trod. . . . 

The western embers were dying 

Beneatti a smoky cloud; 
In flashes throbbed the liorizon. 

But dared not crackle aloud; 

A breeze arose, fanning gently 

The shyly twinkling stars; 
Venus coquetted in splendor. 

And longingly trembled Mars. 

The cool, pure air bathed kindly 
His temples, erst feverish with heat — 

The heat of his glowing vision. 
And tbe rays that fiercely beat: 

The eyelids, true to their ofiice. 
So tenderly slid from their fold, — 

The weary dreamer knew no'. 

When sleep, uncalled, had made bold. 

In his sleep the vision continued — 

A living stream of events. 
Till before him is aged Eli, 

And the childless wonoan's laments. 

Alone he lay in a chamber ; 

In his heart was a tremor and fear; 
On the night hung the heavy silence 

Of an awful presence near. 



Then came a voice through the rafters, 

SolemH, and deep and from far,— 
" O, Samuel! Samuel!" calling;— 

He sprang through the door ajar; 
There Eli, in accents trembling, 

With a voice that was hollow in dread: 
" 'Tis God, O Samuel, calls thee,— 

God calls thee to hiin," — said, 
'Kound his eyes there flashed pale glory, 

Id his soul a new ardor was fired, 
Heavenward drew all his feelings: — 

Himself was the prop^^et inspired! 
But ev'n in the trance he was swooning: 

He woke with the voice in his ears, 
Now "Judah Levita, God calls thee, 

God calls thee to him," he hears. 
Long he lay and looked not. 

Nor dared he open his eyes; 
Then he saw the sun and heavens, 

And 'gan recollections to rise. 
Ah! who, in moments of heaven, 

E'er knew the op'ning spheres, 
Wafting precious light and music 

Unto raptured eyes and ears! 
Oh, who of all the chosen 

Can touch the trembling strings. 
And sing to the unhappy 

What such a vision brings; 
Can hint to the lamenting 

Of a balsam for their woes. 
And sing to the despairing 

Of an ever sweet repose! 
Ah, who to burning ardor 

May kindle sleeping hearts. 
In adamant may armor 

The mind 'gainst hailing darts! — 
In might and deeds of glory 

Outburst the shackled soul, — 
Against the proud oppressor 

A people's valor roll! 
When young in years and in ardor. 

And warm beat his heart for his kind — 
As musing o'er Israel's trials, 

iJespairing a rest to find — 



His Israel nobly res'ling 

In soul illuming light. 
While wrapt was the barbarous tyrant 

In mental Egyptian night- 
God's voice then first came upon him 

In the stillness of soul stirring nightr 
" Levita, God calls thee," calling, 

" God bids thee champion the right!" 

And thus in his bosom was planted 
The undying torch of the muse, 

In which was a gunrdian power 
E'er light and strength to diffuse. 

'Twas he, in moments of heaven, 
By favor drew deep from God's springs 

While the world of mortals thirsty 
Drew Elysium from his strine! 

He Judah made strong with Heaven, 
'Gainst a blind and pitiless foe; 

The wailing and despairing 
Made stronger than their woe. 

The chords of his heart all human — 
Though by Wisdom stamped a God — 

Played their echoes to lovers lyric. 
And trembled to Passion's nod. . . 

The many years' battles 'gainst evil, 
The outbursts of smouldering song, 

Have rolled past and left in his bosom 
A content with his triumphs o'er wrong. 

Now why broods his breast so heavy 
From red dawn till evening's glow? 

Why at night, his chamber soft breathing 
Starts he with self-addressed flow? 

Why, on the sea shore oft wand'ring, 
Turns his gaze to the orient mere? 

Why shuns he, with gloom unwonted, 
Men's approach the sage to revere? 

Ah! again had a vision startled 
His life's now embedded stream. 

" The God that dwelleth in Zion 
Calls thee to him," he hear did seem. 



From that hour grew the fiame in hia 
bosom, 

And he knew not rest nor content; 
" To Zion! to Zion!" within him 

Was the crier Heaven-sent. 

For his land leaving back a deep blessing, 
Alone o'er the billows he sped; 

"God dwelleth in Zion," he murmured: 
"I must seek him there." he said 

The sands are dry and dreary 

In the dusty, desert streets; 
The sigh of desolation 

Murmurs in palace seats. 

Within walls, the corpse of splendor 

The lazy vampire mocks; 
The owl, in halls of gaiety, 

In peaceful slumber rocks, 

Alarming but the vermin. 

Is heard the lion's roar; 
And the iaokal feasts disgusting, 

Where had feasted pomp of yore. 

Where had thronged the busy thousands, 
Now swarms the poisonous brood; 

And the hiss of venom dwells now 
Where the bower of love once stood! 

In despair to cheer the ruin, 

The flowers their smile have withdrawn; 
'Round theiwithered trunk twines the ivy, 

And croaking pools fill the lawn. 

And birds of the country, in terror 

Wing from the city away; 
O'erbead but the dismal raven 

Indifferent croaks on his way. 

The world of the dreary and loathsome 
Have in comfort here made their beds; — 

But the liallowed world of holies 
'a what the pilgrim raptured treads. 

The stagnant air and heavy 
With countless horror? fraught. 

Weighs like ocean-deep on his yearning, 
And empearls every thought. 



And presses he not the goal now 
Where the soul had made eager flights?" 

Where had vvinged imagination, 
The foot of longing alights. 

And what though horrors here bristle ! 

Are they not the scourging rod 
Of.the.frenzy— pelting prophet, 

And breathes he not nearer to God? 

He pauspth at every ruin- 
Some palace of princes' birth, 

And at every remembrance he trembles — 
His longings are more than of earth! 

At the palace of David he sinketh, 
O'ercome with emotion's weight; 

The pain of his heart bursting open, 
Tears flow for Judea's fate. 

And he cried in piteous accents: 

" Wasted art thou — but how! 
In any dreams of thee I bewailed thee - 

But how can I weep for thee now, 

"And were in my eyes a fountain 
As unceasing as Jordan's source -- 

Nay, thy gushing tale of sorrow 
Would run faster than its course. 

"I might echo thy plaints, Jeremiah, 
If human words could console; 

But I cannot, I cannot lighten 
My anguish-burdened soul!" 

His voice was drowned in its exit 

By a flood of mounting pain: 
No greater the grief of a mother 

O'er her son beloved, new-slain. 

With strength that was only of spirit, 
With steps that weie dragging and 
faint, 
The bowed old man came toppling, 
To that temple of martyr's blood-taint. 

Eeaching those naked ruins, 

Where once holiness hovered profound. 
He knelt on the earth so sacred. 

And kissed the stones around. 



Like a frantic parent be kissed them, 

CliDging in vain to the child 
Whom relentless robbers are snatching 

To carry away to the wild. 

And like the ebbing ocean, 

Which wave after wave sends back 

To yet hold the land in subjection, 
But soon in control must lack — 

The life of the pilgrim was failing 

Though tor moments strength yet re- 
turned, 

Which receding, left him fainter, 
And his soul for heaven yearned. 

Yet as some souls be restless 

With God to mingle as one, 
His guiltless drops longed to mingle 

With the sea that before them had gone, 

"Hey! hoarding unbeliever! 

What hid'st thou here in pain?" 
A passing son of the desert 

Calls out in scorn profane. 

The pilgrim hears nor heeds him, 

In other realms aflight; 
In wrath, the fierce barbarian 

Reins up his steed of night. 

He lifts ihe wanton weapon 

To frighten a reply, 
It falls —and the glory of mortals 

Departs without a sigh. 



BELOW. 

Tears fall from heavens weeping 
Upon the cheek of earth; 

Nor wind nor wave is sleeping, 
And shipwreck shrieks its birth. 

A thousand hearts are heevy 
For friend and father gone; 

A burden, grief doth levy . 
On Judah for her son- 



Her walls scale demons faster 

Than cai; be filled the breacb. 
Disunion with disaster, 

And darkness Judah reach. 

ABOVE. 

There is a joyful ringing 

In Heaven's fragrant aisles. 
The seraphs all are winging 

Around in sunlike smiles. 

Three cherubs light with pleasure 

Shoot up ethereal bights; 
A God-bound soul their treasure — 

Loved burden in their flights. 

The good of all the ages 

Round God with joy him greet; 
Their peer, the spirit sages 
In pure embraces meet. 

XIV. 
A DREAM OF DEATH. 

A RETROSPECT OF LIFE. 

[Written in the author's 16tli year.] 

I 

Light, darkness, mists, and shades of gloom. 
Alternate spread in my death-room; 
Bright , varying colors, stars and skies. 
Glimmer and fade before my eyes; 
My heavy head is dulled by sounds 
Whofse low monotony confounds 
My senses, presses at ray heart, 
And numbs my limbs with deadly art. 

II 

My mind alone is calm and clear. 
Aware of th' end so plainly near; 
And from its re-ilm— so soon to cease 
And from its prison to release 
Th' immortal spirit from the skies, 
Soon in its own empyreal guise — 
Evokes to their last office Powers, 
That hover o'er my closing hours: 



Ill 

First, Conscience, dim retired till now. 
Confronts me with its frowning brow: — 
The frown, terrific in its might. 
My sensibilities all sore 
With terror rivets more and more, 
Then racks them in their fearful plight 
By torments sprung from left and right,— 
The spectres of each buried sin, 
Of monstered shape and horrid grin — 
So grim, that creeps my flesh in thrills, 
And frozen blood my pulses fills; 
Remorse, Despair, and Shame profound 
Then grate and burn the fearful wound. 

IV 

Now flies my Mem'ry wand'rng fast 
O'er scenes I traversed in the past, — 
O'er burning passions, bitter pangs 
Of jealousy or fancied wrongs, 
Fierce bursts of anger unrestrained, 
And ling'ring malice long retained. 
How longs my soul to send a breath 
To all of pardon, ere my death; — 
Forgiveness pray for what had passed. 
When words thrust friendship to the past ' 
How aches my bosom, sinks my heart. 
To think how oft my spiteful dart 
Of malice stung a friend, when ire 
Had kindled my malignant fire! 



Repentance pouring from my breast, 

Then bathes rr.y wounds in vapors blest. 

Now pleasanter by far I roam 

O'er infant joys beneath the dome 

Of loving paren's, — joys of school, 

Where sport shared study's sway of rule, — 

O'er giddy pranks in days of youth,— 

Stern battles for polit'cal truth. — 

'Twas then ambition first was formed, 

And strove for me, and hardships stormed :- 

My only prayer was then to live. 

That life, ambition field might give. 



VI 

Sweet were the sports of guileless joy ;^ 
With ring-games, nicing-matcb, and toy; 
Rigiit liappy was that etate^of ease 
When every new-seen sight could please- 
When every rharra seera'd newly born, 
And endless joy each to adorn ! 
The mind saw hut the sweets of morn, 
And dawn's dim light revealed no thorn; 
Youth's glance knew not the mien of hate. 
Nor pierced the mists 'round future fate ; 
All sounds interpreted but bliss — 
Each breeze imparted but a kiss; 
Toe transient gusts that brought a tear, 
Annoved as waves of playful air; 
The eye that viewea the lovely dawn 
Saw not the mid-day scorching sun; 
The fleecy clouds foretold no storm; 
The serpent wore no treach'rous form ; 
Gay fiowers smiled un withered hue — 
And heaven its fresh, untlireatened blue. 

VII 

Thus childhood's blameless days rolled on- 
Each in serene content begun, 
Pursued with frolics light and gay, 
Where on earth's bosom freshness lay. 
Awhile I rolled o'er garden green, 
Now roamed for flowers the country scene. 
Now pebbles pick, d by lapping shore, 
And sent them in the air to soar; 
Or cast them o'er the rippling waves, 
Or launched afloat, cork, bark, and staves. - 
Watched tiny fishes darting 'round, 
Those that in shallow shores abound, 

VIII. 

By late rain watered, meadow-pools 
I waded barefoot— spite of rules— 
With comrades mischievous as gay. 
And I as thoughtless, wiM as they! 
With shout and whoop we raced as steeds. 
With reins of string and whip of weeds; 
O'er fields we scoured, o'er bridges went, 
The hill we swept in mad ascent; 



Our mercbandise was ahells and bones, 
Our coat-tail loads were sand and stones. 
At times, in secret bands arrayed. 
We plunged into a garden raid; 
At times we chased a limping dog — 
Delightful sport for each young rogue; — 
Oft marched the street in martial pride, 
A drumming-can, our noisy guide: 
Cudgels in band, shingles in belts, 
We dared the fiercest of old Celts! 

IX. 

At dusk, when 't was too dark for play. 
And blowing breeze bade us yet stay 
Out-doors, we would on logs sit round. 
To tales to listen of strange sound. 
The parted lips, the breath restrained. 
The eager gaze, attention strained: 
Beads leaning forward, chin on palm 
Spurred pause to fly, and words to come. 
While quiet absorbed each flowing word: — 
To such degree were our souls stirred. 
Night following its ush'ring screen 
Came <lown unheeded and unseen! 

X. 
For e'er the burden of those tales 
Was: Ocean monsters, sharks and whales. 
That carried cities on their tails, 
And 'twixt their jaws held ship and sails; 
Fair islands flouiished on their backs, 
That yielded cotton, wheat and wax: 
Whene'er they stirred dread earthquakes crashed, 
And all-in-all in ocean dashed: 
Huge elephants that without toil 
Could towns inclose in their trunks' coil. 
Hounds trained to spring at birds on high, 
And reach wherever wing can fly: 
Such were the flights of Innocence-- 
By Fancy's free wings borne along; 
Wild Fable scorned old Truth's oflience, 
While tame Credulity to t clung! 

XI. 
Love, Innocence, Conleal, and Health, 
Ye Youth's encomparable wealth — 
O heaven, O fountain ot calm bliss! 



let me -let me. your cup kiss 

Once more with Memory's farewell flight — 

Time's short— O God! leud to 't wings light!' 

XII. 

Ah! I behold Life's Paradise- 
Its gatei tire shut to scheming Vice- 
Fruits grow there uf delicious taste, 
YouDg innocence there blusues chaste, 
While Love und Health lefiect their smiles 
On travelers of tliis Garden's aisles. 
Thtse, starting from its misty midst, 
Sav : "Lord, we'll follow where thou lead'st!'" 
Each by the gentlest slow degrees 
Learns what he feels, and hears, and sees — 
On light-winged zephyrs borne along, 
While fairies change each sound to song, 
While angel mother's wings o'erhead 
Ward off all harm and guard each tread. 
From those enchanted trees he plucks 
Their offered fruits, their juices sucks. 

XIII. 

But when the outer skirts he nears, 
An unknown tree in vie w appears : 
'Tis Kuowledge, wearing aspect strange; 
Inviting apples, her boughs range. 
The traveler stretches forth hie hand, 
Tastes them— and feels a ra«gic wand: 
A change oomes o'er his frame and soul — 
The gaze meets different world and whole! 

XIV. 

What had seemed trivial, now is grand. 
What had seemed mountains, grains of sand' 
Where had stood Paradise, stretch fields 
Whose soil man's food fr(jm th' idle shields; 
Where Innocence its charms had spread, 
Far-reachiug Reason reigns in stead; — 
True sounds convey tii' import of voice — 
Life's real roads fork out to choice. . . . 

XV. 

My Mem'ry pauses in its flight, 
Reluctant now to leave the path 

Whose pictures gently charm the sight. 
Whose image dearest beauties hath! 



Its path ahead it full well knows: 
There clearest joye bear fiercest pangs; 

The thorn ^rows there beside the rose, 
And from the vine the serpent hangs. 

Each prize that would by man be reached 
Is with most trying struggles bought, 

And when at last the prize is reached, 
He Gn '8 it lacks the charms he sought. 

Disasters teach wise lessons stern, 

Bui never teach the man to learn; 

And when again conies on their tide. 

O'erwhelmed he's from another side! 

Oft Disappointment blasts fond Hope, 

Which soon with dark Despair must cope; 

And now Delusion lurin^ on. 

Makes Tantalus of Adam's sun. 

Thus sage Experience— pain its fee- 
Instructs and warns when need is past; 

And while man's taught in agony 
What he ne'er learns, his sands run fast 

XVI 

Twas thus I left blithe Youth's domains, 

And entered faithless seas and plains. 

I chose a path with dauntless will : 

It led o'er ruggedness up-hill; 

Its steppmg-stones are boulders frail - 

Woe to the traveler, when they fail 

Support to unsuspicious foot, 

And down the slope their weight they shoot! 

The traveler may come un:iware 

On perils, 't would be vain to dare: 

Dark, foaming rapids 'neath the bluff; 

Rocks beetling o'er unfathomed gulf; 

Chasms, wider than man's leap can span; 

And savege beasts in shape of man. 

Vassals to wealth, of virtue tirf d. 

By all-df-stroying envy hired — 

Who prowl for pray near dangerous steep,— 

Would hurl him down the frightful deep. 

When weary, broken, this I learned, 

Head drooping, I disheartened turned, 

And left to stouter heart and frame 

The struggles up the Summit Fame, 

Where tow'rs the Temple of that name. 



XVII. 

Ambition! word that sages curse, 
And worldly statesmen fondly nurse! 
Thou power that some hast raised from dust. 
Urged some, till they in crime were lost; 
Tornadots o'er vast empires hurled, 
And threatened slav'ry to tlie world; 
Impelled th' inventor's hard-wrought brain^, 
And fired the bard's enchanting strain:— 
What mis'ries hast thou wrought on man! 
And yet deny none will or can, 
'Twas through thy hold on human heart. 
Civilization sprang, and art. 

XVII!. 

As some great stream with current strong,, 
A country wat'ring wide and long. 
Though roaring, flooding in its course, 
Of wealth and industry's the source- 
Ambition with tempestuous rage 
Th' improvements bore of every age: 
The rash, in louder courses sped, 
The deeper, in a mightier bed— 
Those turned a Revolution's wheel, 
These led Prosperity's still keel, 

XIX 

Like jurists at the bar opposed, 
Thtse thoughts, by contemplation roused. 
Against and for ambition plead; 
And this is my decision's heed 
To men of worth and ruling name, 
Striving to scale the Temple Fame: 
Te statesmen of philippic sway, 
Ye soverigns of the bloody fray, 
Of whom but few keep not in view 
Contention with a rival crew - 
Employ your forces for the right — 
They will decide your life's great fight; 
Ne'er seek to lay a rival low, 
But far beyond him sta-ive to go; 
Condemn not men's decisions wrong. 
When not on you the laurel's strung. 



XX 

I passed youth's days. Life's choice I lost- 

By fluctuating Fortune tost, 

A firm support I had no more— 

A wondering aimless life my store; 

No glory, fame or pow'r in state, 

I sought thenceforth to emulate; 

But sought Seclusion's welcome shade, 

And earned what Science scanty paid— 

Too sea; t, indeed, for vanities, 

Enough a sated life to ease. 

I labored not for gold or pay. 

But of this life to pave the way; 

From pleasure I forced not its fee — 

That brought its joys, uns-ught by me. 

XXI. 

Not this 's the world to seek our en J, 
Not this the world where joys befriend 
The virtuous, shun the vile and base, — 
Rewards with merit keeps just pace. 
How oft in my short-lived career 
Have I seen virtue mocked by sneer, 
And made to blush for conscious right. 
By th' overbearing and the slight! 
Confiding honesty beheld 
.To cruel suspicion's gaze upheld, 
And cunning falsehood fovor vie 
With honor blunt — by flattery; — 
Pretentious vanity esteemed, 
And chaste simplicity ill-deemed! 

XXI. 

Ah no! look to the next to pay 

For noble deeds done here below: 
Whate'er the cold may do or say, 

They can inflict but passing woe. 
The comfort you can hope while here, 

Is hopping happiness above, 
The way to Heaven is to adhere 

To all-spread sympathy and love. 
Hear but th' advice of one hath felt 
The griefs that crush, and joys that melt 
The soul enraptured or perplexed, — 
Who leaves this life, and feels the next. 



XXIII. 

When dread Mis*"ortune's weight bore down. 

And Ruin wore its b!>ickest frown: — 

When hfe seemed uotbing a)ore to own; — 

But as a stream, that first had flown 

Through gardens of delicious wealth, 

Where plenty wears the smile of health, 

In desert dries its dying wave: — 

A barren struggle toward the grave : — 

In such affliction's desp'rate hour 

I felt religion's healing-power; 

And after the full flow of tears, 

A soothing glow wiped all my fears, 

A cheering thought drove off the chill. 

And hopp^ returned, looked brighter still. 

XXIV 

As o'er the self wrought mis'ries of mankind, 

Seeing the truth with fearful force, my mind 

Doth roam, I feel that what I leave behind 

'S the worst of man's existt nee— that 't is not — 

I', cannot be the whole of human lot; 

This frame 's the dwelling of ih' immortal soul. 

Which soon forsakes it for its real goal; 

Its earthly life is but a puzzling dream, 

Which, while it lasts, an age of time doth seem; 

'TisfuUof dwindling sights and changeful shapes, 

Wtiose true form 's always guefsed— ne'er right; 

of 'Scapes 
And dangers; fortune's strokes of ill or good; 
All whirl on eddy round the dreamer's mood: 
Who when in depth unbottomed seems to sink, 
Light flashing on him, finds hi(n pistits brink: — 
This Death— 't is but the soul's awakening 
To real life and real light of everything. . . . 

XXV 

I feel I'm sinking — my soul breaks its shell. 

A few more peckings— heartbeats, and 't is 
o'er; 
It longs to fly to God and there to dwell, 

Where life's delusions shall deceive no more. 
All life's past tumult vaguely dies away, 

And reason sees no more with steady light; 
Save that the gleaming of a flickering ray. 



Reveals dear facea— lovely, radiant, bright! 
Tome they seem like angels, yet their tears 

Bespeak the anguish of their mortal mind; 
And a dear ^.reast a recollection clears, 

That makes my soul yet linger fond behind: 
It is the breast that nursed my baby frame, 

The breast in its aflfection constant, true, 
Where through all change, a place I yet could 
claim. 

Whose comfort e'er could fallen hopes renew. 
A pang shoots coursing through my lifeless veins. 

And all is dark again before my eyes; 
Sight failing me, my ear its service strains, 

And stifled sobs of agony, and cries 
Break on my htart: "Myson— mysaint— my life! 

Have mercy, Lord!— O take him not from me! 
O spare my boy, he scarcely yel knew life! 

My son, look at me! seest me not?— he"— 
My eyelids open.— I behold my sire; 

His gaze meeis my own feeble pflance; those 
orbs 
Speak to me of ao inward struggling fire, 

That all outspoken word of pain absorbs: 
And then, the fever of his minly breast 

Burets forth for once in a self-forcing sob; 
At which a wailing breaks from all the rest, 

That for a moment quicknens my heart's throb; 
And then I swoon— I swim— I sink— 

My head is bathing in a liquid flame, 
Which feels like icy glow; I cannot think, 

I cannot stir, I do not feel my frame 

[Just then I hear a clear voice and a knock- 
I start, awake, I'm dazzling with a beam 

Of sunlight, and surprised by: "Eight o'clock. 
Awake!"— Could all this be a foolish dream?] 




JSfov in its Seventeenth Volume, is devoted to Science, 
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eight columns. Has an extensive circulation, and is therefore a 
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Subscription, per Annum, $3.00. 

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